Winter: Finale (There Really Is No End in Sight)

Writing songs or poems before the cold actually gets here
I guess this is my way of coping when things get tough
You might ask me if I'd be willing to go through it all again
My answer is yes and winter for us will never really end
Graceful or graceless I'll keep trying to make a smile appear like magic on your face
Silly words or silly actions I'll trip over myself trying so hard but I know you'll pick me up
Late night adventures or jokes aside in quiet, this is where I want to be
I hope that the cold actually sticks around, that way you can steal my heat
There's so much I want to say but my tongue is tied and I'll whisper
Shy guy till the end, so I'll hope my written tries make sense despite my jumbled mind in wait
Not sure where my fate leads or what my future holds but to hell with it
I want to say in now forever, where I will find you each and every time
Gut feeling and sure of absolutely everything, you won't find me laying awake
Definitely choosing you over the rest time and time again
While I existed in existential crisis, you fell into my lap
Not some sort of sappy attempt to win your heart
But I want you to love me for me, not some sort of creation
Let this pledge be a promise in your heart, in your eyes:

I know this winter will end and I will see you on the other side
but I will keep you close to me to make sure, as winter becomes spring.

Winter Part 4

Winter: Daybreak

The new lights to know why you shout out your love in full
Bright nights, what you want, I will sing and claim my hope

Oh, lover, what it is to wake beside loving eyes full and alive
Your touch, your love more than ever

Oh, lover, oh, lover, you are the newest snow on winter's eve
Smile and nip at my chapped lips, pull and tug at my sleeve
With your strength

Oh, lover, I will see the daybreak by your side

Winter: Lights

One more for the chilly nights that make us dress warm
When the sun sets and the cold comes in we will light up the dark

Strolls in winter, time by this frozen pond
An amount of joy in drunken stupor

I would love to live this moment on repeat
Jingle bells and carols to mark the occasion

A kiss in the dark with the glow of distant lights
I will stand this cold for another moment
I will every time

Winter Part 3

Winter: First Fall

The light shines down on the first fall
The imprint to you left all along the way
A memory burned in ice
Shows the way you've wavered
But you found your way back

To her arms, to her strength
That first feeling of energy
To and from better days
That second wind of confidence
To warmth from cold
That fear will lessen with her love

Hard to know it's time
We want to know what's better
A moment where we won't question
If the snow will ever start to fall
Or continue on forever

Winter: Warmth

This is a song for winter
To keep a status quo between us
A place of neutrality to stand
Keep the peace and make calls
On whether we will see it to the end

There's no fallen snow to see
No time left to call it out
A winter's bark but no bite
When I told you I loved you
You smiled and returned it to me
We will survive this cold
Your hand in mine every night

Winter Part 2

Winter: Reminiscence

On occasion I let those thought flow by
Those that  tell me I'll never see you again
Despite my strength, despite my heart
I feel that need to lay and die

Moments where I know my time with you
A blimp in comparison to years learned
I just want that to be us, maybe more
Than a couple months time in memory

All the things, all the thoughts, all the memories
I want to be your nostalgia that you look back
And smile, thinking of me in better light
But I don't want to be lost in your heart

Hold onto the thought that I am what you want
A man jaded, but still standing after it all
Wanting nothing more than to be by your side
A love that is new and scary but worth the effort

In the end I hope you find what makes you happy
I want you to smile even if it's not because of me
That when you cry that they would be wiped away
A beautiful soul that should never feel this hurt

Winter: Nights

My mind is my worst enemy in this scenario
Late nights laying awake with fear I won't see you again
My words like echoes in the halls of where we wandered
Struggling with self doubt and uncertainty, I'm scared tonight

I wish for a chance to show you what I'm worth
However little I am still wanting you to remember
Better days will with smiles, nights with whispers
My heart poured out into winter's cold

Shield me from your hurt so it won't spread
I'm waiting on your words to know I haven't left your thoughts
I want to carry that weight so you can see the daylight
My time won't stack up as against the past but...

I wish for a chance to see what years will bear
My love is something I won't give so freely
But I miss you now, only a day in, it's sort of sad
I want to feel that hurt, I want to know it well

To say I'm yours, I would give it all
To sleep through these cold nights
I'd give up my head and the words within
Just to say I had a chance to know you more

Winter (I'm doing this for you) Part 1

Winter: Preface

Three days in the new winter and still I want more
To sleep forever beside you, I keep my hopes up despite fear

You make me want to sing, even though I'm tone deaf
The way you kiss me neck is how I disarm
The way your eyes still see the real me
When you say I love you, I hear the joy and fear

The first day of the new week and I'm scare more than before
That our last nights have gone, I feel the weight of time

Till I see you again, I'll still whisper my love



Winter: Solace

Been through the muck a hundred times
And felt like drowning once or twice
A heart use to uncertainties in between
But I've never given up, still fighting
I still rise to the occasion and fall right beneath
With high hopes that a journey does eventually end

I never asked for more
To end this uphill war
Where my knees have bruised
Just so I won't hear I lose
Until I run out of things to do
I'll still struggle to hear "I love you"

Stared at others in lover's bliss
Awe struck with envy and sick
Their smiles and the laughter built
Wishing I could feel that one day
I still do my damned best, I always will
With high hopes that a journey does eventually end

I never asked for more
To end this uphill war
Where my chest is beaten in
Just so I know that I will win
A love that you hold for me in your heart
Just waiting for this whole thing to start

I miss you now
Even before you wake
Waiting on your call
To say I'm yours
So here's my chance
To show you meant more
Than any words I could bear
So I can lay here till dawn
And stay sleeping with you
till the winter is over

Hope(Less)

Well there's a darkness deep down in my heart
It's bled out one too many times

There's a place where I have gone before
And I fear it's come back for the worst

That place where hopelessness calls home


Well there's been a happiness that came to me
One I thought I was certain would stick

You were mine for such a short time
Then you were taken away before the start

Someone who didn't make me shudder


Well there's a thought that has crossed my mind
To let myself die and become someone else

Then maybe the nights wouldn't seem so long
With hope that I won't remember who I was

But hope is a hard thing to have faith in these days

A Few Poems to Tide You Over Dear Reader

Note: I assure you that this short story is coming. Due to some hiccups and a few more edits I found in revising it, it'll hopefully be done by mid next week. So to help tide over you dear reader, here are a few poems.

Autumn

Breathe me in, I'm the ghost of your better years
Dripping wet from the constant downpour
Soon the skies will clear and the cold will set in
Light your fires down underneath your belly
Let me be that warmth that self assures you
Make me wish I could stay here longer than expected
Seek out that way closer to where your head lay down


Eden

I'll show you to the garden where our flowers bloom and we whisper secrets of happier days gone away
Don't avert your eyes or stray from the path, their intent is to lead you astray with shame
I will be your firefly, light your way through the brush and darkness to taste the sweet fruit
In that place I'll show you joy beyond others, build you a home within, standing tall as trees
Rest your head on my shoulder, dream of somewhere far
I'll be your eternity and you'll stay asleep


Burned Out Again

I've had the worst nights in a long time
Tossing and turning in my bed
Sweat accumulating beneath my back
I count the ticks from my ceiling fan
One, two and three more seconds till I snap

I'll write some sappy poem and you'll eat it up
The joke is over, I'm not cut out for this

My days are numbered but they drag on
Twisting and restless in my office chair
I'll jumpy at every single thing
I stare at the clock on my screen
One, two and three more minutes till I snap

Oh I don't mean to worry you
My body just hates me sometimes
My mind just wants to commit suicide
My psyche just is sick of all my bullshit

I'm pretty sure I've run out of ideas
Struggling and frustrated, my pen bends in my hand
The ink spreading by the side of my palm
One, two and three another poem lost to luck


A Light

Somewhere I hear her sing
The piano keys falling gently
Stormy weather pouring outside
Her voice breaks through thunder
It beckons her sweet bliss
A cat crawls onto her lap
There it sits and slumbers
The light from the lighthouse
Glowing and warning of shore
Her fingers tire as the song slows
But her voice still shines
The storm calms and dies
A new day to greet
Spirits calm and rise
They call out for guidance
Lost and confused
Her touch is gentle
So they call out to her
A voice so sweet and beautiful
They would be led home
A lighthouse in the darkness
Her voice whispers till the light is out


Come Back

With every thing I share to the world
My words written on several hundred pages
Every time I post it to see
My heart stops a second
I hold my breath and don't bother to restart
Now I'm finding my words fail and repeat themselves
I use to seem so steady but in truth
My hands are always shaking
My mind is always racing
And everyday is a struggle to wake up in strength
To keep myself from an early grave
I'm not sure if there's a heaven but I wish for a better place
Because where I am at is a hell
No I cannot sing because I'm tone deaf
No I can't be happy when I hate myself
No I won't make promises when I don't know what I want
I went away to find myself and I still haven't come back
No I haven't come back
No I haven't come back
No I haven't come back
No I haven't come back
So maybe God is a little silent, because maybe he's not talking to me
But even after my words fail, I'll keep writing
I promise I'll keep writing
I promise I'll keep writing
I promise I'll keep writing
I promise I'll keep writing
writing of something better

I Didn't Plan You

Note: This is a sort of poem I think is something we all know comes up in life. Curve balls. Something or someone that comes along that is not part of our sort of plan. We move through time attempting to stick to some sort of path. This is a poem of one of my curve balls.



When we first met I thought I was over it
The sheer concept that maybe someone was out there for me
But you came along and I felt that trivial, little spark
When our lips finally made contact I was struck

I thought to myself that it was nothing
Just a good date with an interesting girl
Then I saw you again, and again and again
And in between, little texts of getting to know you

I knew then that all I wanted was to be around you
And it seemed the same for you
I was scared though, I'm broken goods or jaded beyond fucking repair
But you assured me not to worry, you're not that complex
Still I took it slow, compared to the animal I have been

I craved your body, yes
I wanted your touch, yes
I wanted to call you mine, yes
I wished I was yours, yes
but I still bit my tongue, we went at your pace
Only because I didn't want you to leave just yet

I had no clue as to why
Just felt like I wanted to see what came of this

Things were well, then the summer came
Your texts became less frequent
Your presence was less constant
I missed you more than I thought I would

Still I went at your pace, no matter how frustrated
I was convinced that it would be worth it eventually
Even if it was just to hold your hand

Then you started telling me not to put all my faith in you
That you weren't perfect
Who the fuck is?

When you would not speak to me, my mind went racing
Battling depression and anxiety results in a hell hole in your own head
I assumed the worst

"She's playing me"
"She's seeing other guys"
"She feels nothing for me"
but here I was, battling my own mind
And saying that you were only busy

I understood that your career came first.
I never wanted to take you away from that
Somehow knowing I wasn't going to be that guy

I wrote you love poems without saying "I love you"
I wasn't ready for that
You said you loved them, you said you loved my genuine nature

Eventually you cared less about them, they were just words
I finally spoke my mind
Feeling ignored and dismissed
You said you didn't know what to say
That you should have done something sooner
That you felt bad you were so busy
That she was unsure now

We were in different places
Focused on her career and that I had so much going for me
so much support
That I would go far and be something
That you still wanted to be friends

How can we still be friends?
When I only bothered because I saw something in you
That you were the first interest in my life that made me feel normal again
That there was nothing wrong with me and that I mattered somehow

She said she felt like an endgame and that she didn't want that
She was scared of being hurt and didn't want to hurt me

I was angry. How did I intend that?
I went at her pace, her rules.

I never planned on her coming into my life.
Even after being broken before in such harsh ways.

We said goodbye and good luck

I haven't spoken a word to her in a long time
I still have her on my mind each day
I still write love poems for her...

Status Update and Poem

NOTE: So to start off, Hello world and hope things are well. My schedule has been crazy as of late bit I assure things are coming! I'm hoping to have finished my edits on another short story to share with you all. I'm thinking close to the start of October. Then once that's done and out of the way, I will be only posting sparingly ever few days (most likely just poems). I say this because I will be working diligently on a new concept I mentioned in am earlier post!  So stay tuned.

Poem:

The Cry of the unwilling Martyr

What the hell do I even say? I am full of regret.
My thoughts are bleak and harsh
But my words will move you to change
To not be an example of a martyr

The truth is I do this to myself
Always trapped in my head, circling down and down
Till all there is noise
But my intentions will move you to let loose
All the pent up angst and wishes you kept quiet

Why didn't I ever speak up?
Perpetually silent and barely saying a word to any of you
My ways are confused, my roads are twisted
But my mistakes will test your will
To show that a voice is never gone

Never lying, my soul is heavy and filled with sorrow
I will never know peace but say I do
And my venting will bring you my way
Aggression filled and tired eyes kept

My throat is sore when I decide to yell
It's a journey to some sort of belief
But my trials will convince you to be greater
To rise high and always keep fighting

My advice is something chose never to follow
Despite everything it seems the better option
And to keep moving versus standing by
Maybe I will be a margin to you in the end

The Final Dream

A child's dream somewhere so serene
The sun never sets in their background
Voices rise as they sing one by one
Let then sing, let them sing, let them sing

A crooked man wants to steal their joy
He plots in rhymes and never dreams
To steal their voices and silence them
Wake them up, wake them up, wake them up

A mother's love shines down on them
Blinding the man till he runs
The children cry for help in their sleep
Please don't fear, please don't fear, please don't fear

A river runs through the fields
It intertwined and divides every way
Sepedrating the children from the man
It never ends, it never ends, it never ends

A man sees his end at the bottom
He fell into the river and he drowned
Then he woke alone, his childhood gone
Now he's awake, now he's awake, now he's awake

Morgan

Note: This is a poem I thought I'd never share publicly. I figure I might as well.

I’m unsure of what words to use

To describe what feelings have me so confused

 

When you run your fingers over my arm

I always feel like I’m ready to disarm

 

It’s dumb to find my mind in such struggle

The doubt I feel and the fear I juggle

 

That spark lights a way out of the dark

Your eyes always leaving their mark

 

When I see your smile after each kiss

I feel like I’m up to bat and I don’t want to miss

 

Just sing with me that I’m worth your time

And that this whole thing isn’t a crime

 

I hope I’m worth your effort

Because there’s something there of comfort

 

I know you said don’t worry I’m not perfect

But there’s something I found worth it

 

To want to keep trying to see you smile

So that maybe you’ll be around for a while

Growing Up

Do you remember when we were kids?
All the scabbed over knees and days getting lost among trees
Maybe you will keep this close to heart when time gets old

The last time I saw you smile seems like ages ago
The days become longer as the clock keeps on ticking
Waiting for the night so we can try to feel alive
I'm always sitting here on curb for you to call me out

The days seemed brighter when the world was still new
With our biggest concerns being where are friends are
Back to back we were always so restless in our actions

The last time I saw you smile seems like ages ago
Hiding in the dark trying to scare each other
Our hearts pacing faster than the footsteps
On hillsides we pretended to be kings and knights
Splitting the ticket to see a movie one summer evening

Stop and think where did that fire go to after it all
Did we give up our dreams for a lifetime of grief?
Maybe just maybe we will wake up into a better place

The last time I saw you smile seems like ages ago
When we shared our first kiss outside the school dance
Now I can't seem to share my words with someone I care for
My throat is dry and I am frustrated with myself
Why can't I just tell you what I want from all of this?

Do you remember when we were kids?
When we thought we'd be doctors, astronauts, or something bigger
And the end never seemed closer to any of us
Man, growing up never seemed like the way it's planned

Want

Time flows maybe a little too slow

I'm here waiting for you to signal

Follow through clean and cut out

This moment where I find your eyes

No longer tired and wishing for more

The barriers of stone and will crumble

Trembling in your wake and full of want

Let's escape this cave full of blue

Into a space where there is nothing but gold

Silver in your eyes hinting that maybe

We'll find a quieter place to rest our heads

Where my voice will not sink down

And I can tell you everything I bear

That I just don't want to lose you now

Another Twenty-Something Burn Out

Growing up, we were raised to believe in a certain way the world works
First, you're born and then you take in that first surreal, epitaph of air
With our eyes blinded to the new world, finally blinking that we are alive
Then we grow up, with words spiraling around in our heads sinking deep down
After we have put in our time to school and to to knowledge of what we love
Books, print, science, math, film, sports, exercise, nutrition, food, cooking, cultures, porn

Then when the time comes we go to college to lock down our future, to lock down a chance
We sleep in awkward positions in an arm chair in the library, we drink ourselves stupid on the weekend
We stay up till 4 a.m. to finish that final term paper that determines if we pass or fail
We fall in and out of love, we fall in and out of lust, we regret and then we don't regret

Then we walk across that stage, grabbing an empty folder where our accomplishments should be
We are in front of thousands of people, thousands of our peers but yet we feel so tall
Knowing that once those doors close behind us that opportunity is waiting on the other side

Then reality hits us, leaving a hand print on our faces

Work work work work work work working working working working working worked worked worked
We were worked into being the biggest cash cows in the world, more profitable than another war
With crippling debt we are expected to work it all back, owing the country for our education

With only months till the bills knock on our doors and show us that we are truly owing them
One struggles to find work in his field, what he studied most of his life to be
Another works in her field and works and works and works till her mind is burning and tired
To suck the joy out of one who feels like they went to school for the wrong thing
Wishing that he had those years back and had gone to war, to prove more profitable

Choosing our passion, we should have known that we should have chosen something more efficient

And now we are sleeping in awkward positions in our cubicles or at our desk
Working away or looking for work day in and day out
We drink ourselves to sleep almost every night hoping to numb that pain, soothe the burn
We are up till 4 a.m. either working for a deadline or thinking on our lives, losing sleep
We fall in love when we think that we are in love, we divorce when we realize we have no idea
We regret and we regret and we regret until we aren't even sure what regret is

Choosing what works towards freedom when we lost what it was that we loved

We are all burnt out with a sigh of breath

I Should Have Known Better

I was stone before I met her
Built strong from the tried ravages of an maniacal, angry ex-love
I did not let the world get to me
I was strong, I was angry, I was empty to the world
One after another there would be others who asked where we stood
My reply would be sent with no clue and empty promises
I would lose sleep while always trying
Telling myself I was grown up. I was grown up. I was awake.
Then I met her, a curve ball on the open field throwing off my balance
Someone I felt that I had a connection with, someone that didn't make me feel
That emptiness that has been eating away at my core, at my soul, at who I was
She made me feel like it was okay to feel so broken, like the toys of my childhood
That instead of focusing on the noose I knotted, I was focusing on being
Who I am again, that same dorky, child at heart, wishing and dreaming of better

I was stone before I met her
But I trusted and opened and bled and tried and keep on trying
I never anticipated this
This was not in the plan, this was not the course that I set up
She's on my mind and I can't stop obsessing
I know that she's scared of me like I'm scared of me and that's scary
My past has made my present and my future seems fucked
That I am ashamed and I am angry and I am frustrated and I am loathing
Myself. All with myself.
I trusted and maybe if I take my head out of my dark place I will see clearly
and know that I shouldn't trust, never trust

I was stone before I met her
Made of cold concrete with cracks that aren't structurally damaging
Depression is a real thing.
It's like swimming in tar, you either stay calm and slowly sink or struggle and go down faster
But I talk and I try and I try and I keep trying to win her heart
I'm told to be patient and see where it goes
But what if I'm afraid of time and of patience?
It always goes south on my part it always turns out bad I always make things worse

I was stone before I met her
She soon stopped talking to me as much
Blank texts met with silence or short responses
That things fall through and I haven't seen her in months
I was always scared of trusting anyone and I never wanted to trust anything
I miss her now and I wish I wasn't who I was
I'm scared shitless when I am with her and when I talk to her
I am scared of opening up and trying to win her heart
But I work with the fear and find excitement with her, excitement and fear

I was stone before I met her
I should have known better

A Letter to Myself: Poetry or A Promise?

Dear you,

I have found myself, dear readers, staring intently at my blank word documents hoping for something to be born on the page. I have dedicated countless hours to my random work I wish is poetry, countless hours to improve what I have written in past. Then, then I post it here, for all of you to see, for hopefully anyone out there to see. I write for some sense of therapy, for some sort of solace that maybe my life is not pointless and maybe, just maybe, I won't find myself at the end of a noose. One that i crafted for myself with every sour thought at my expense or hurt that I feel.

Why do I bring this up? Because it has to be. How am I to grow as a writer, as a person, if I can't throw my life on a page for the world to see? To perform and craft the words that are swirling in my mind? I'l fucking try. I will fucking try.

I have made some serious changes in my life over the past couple years. And now I am stuck. I am finding myself stuck back in my head, in my thoughts, lost. My only peace has been in writing these words that you have read. In the words that I am writing now.

Getting to my point of this; I am tired of waiting. I am bursting at the seams with all the stories I wish to tell, to share with you. In the last month I have committed a lot of time to revamping the stories I cherished after I wrote them. In another couple weeks, that will come to a close. In a couple weeks I will start then on what I want to be my breakout. I will sweat, I will cry and I will bleed for this. To take a hold of my dream and mean something to myself.

This project has been on my mind for some time now. Something that I think will be something that anyone could read and find some sort of comfort in. A place to hide for few minutes, a world to cherish for a time, a story to keep you wanting it to grow. It will be broken into two parts (books?) and when it is done, I will put more than anything into getting it out to the world.

I'm excited and nervous. Scared to death, more like. When it leaves my mind, it's no longer mine. It's yours and I only want you to cherish and enjoy what YOU find in it. Whether your an avid book lover, a casual reader, a passerby in a busy bookshop/coffee shop, or a quiet child reading a book in his home, finding the beauty in words.

The most I wish to share about it is probably just the title. So, to end this letter, this promise to myself: Prepare for "Generation: Lost".

-reader, creator, person

Fake Smiles in a Crowded Room

I feel the weight in all of your words

The constant edge in the sharpness of your tongue

I trivial expectation of what it means to be content

Found in the pace you set when the going gets rough

Let it be repetitive when I sing for you in my rage

My hands are shaking as they form their own fists

Objectified for the last time when I strive for respect

I am part of the dying generation of creative works

When the world has left us behind for something more cold

It's so much worse when it feels like I don't belong here

In a crowded space filled with the fake smiles around me

We gave up our souls for a financial comfort blanket

Is it so bad if I don't want to be a part of it after all?

In the end it means so much deeper that I care for you

I know you hate it when you fill those spaces with falseness

To be fake for the betterment of your stance in society

I just want to mean so much deeper that you won't have to

Fake it here, when the world is full of that enough

Song for Pretty Eyes

There's no point to sing aloud to this song
When the chorus never made any sense
Maybe it's wrong to write so many words
Hoping that at least one has some sense of beauty

With your voice I attempted to capture it
Put it to use so that I could write you a love letter
Where I talk about how your blue eyes have me stuck
As your fingertips caress my arm

There's no point to sing aloud to this song
While the bridge is so far away
Maybe it's wrong to think I deserve your gaze
Hoping that maybe I'd be worth your time

Guess I'm just bad luck
My words are just that
Better to have luck than none at all

What If I Had to Say Goodbye?

I troubled my heart on this face for so long
Then I grew up thinking I've always been wrong
I ended up tripping over my own pace
Just to want to disappear without a trace

Clean up my mess so that I had a better chance
I'm sure that I never deserved a second glance
Cut your losses and fade deeper into black
Never sure if I'll ever come back

My father said don't go too far where even I can't save you
Judge yourself and make your pain tag along when you do
Pop your pills and try not to care anymore
It never mattered really anymore

The voice in your head, your conscience never quiet
There's no point if you just let it
I'm sure it's never enough
We all knew I was never enough

Double Daily Dose of Poetry

A lot of Nerve:

Sharp feel the heavy weight that you bear up on your shoulders
Are you half the man that you felt you'd be when you grew up?
Most time these days I feel the frustration of not living a life filled

I guess I'm angry for most of the decisions I've made
Most days I am shaking my hands and hanging my head
This isn't what I wish I was doing with my life after school

I'm used up goods and know that I'm jaded for my remaining years
Afraid to pursue what I want and make those bigger leaps
Takes a lot of nerves to want to speak my mind in written words

I blame you who never will be named again for these halts
I can't make a move forward without choking on fresh air
When I stop to think of how I feel split in two

To be self aware that it's all in my head
There's nothing I can do to break free of my noose
Losing sleep because I feel like I'm not worth the time

What I want is not important when the world is so far gone
That I'm just another stone in someone's life
Trip over me and keep moving on, I feel so blue

Changing over every moment for sadness or anger
I try my best to not drag any of you down with me
Filled with angst like I fall back into my youth

You have a lot of nerve to write these words for everyone to see
You have a lot of nerve to hope that things will change
You have a lot of nerve to want anything from life



Her poem:

When you smile my heart my beat out of my chest
She says I must be patient to see what happens to the rest
I'm feeling it disappear slowly, don't you?

Is it so bad if I feel this way and don't want it to end?
I'm scared that I'm easily replaced right around the bend
You have to know I have more stock in this

I never anticipated you to happen at this point in life
There's a war going on in my mind filled with strife
I'm not so sure what I could do to change things

There's no cure for when I feel your finger tips on my arm
Swear all time slows when those sensations tend to disarm
My nerves will never cease to be strung out

Catching a smile after each kiss, thinking that I'm important
That now my mind is running endlessly rampant
When you're up close I don't want you to fall away

And I wish you'd just stay for even one night
We could talk it out and I could use my might
To stop biting my tongue and share what I want to say

You're someone I don't want to regret and fade away
Moving on and saying the time we spent was astray
But I always tend to make things worse, I still do

I just hope you'd just call and I could say what's on my mind
To break free of this day to day mental barrier grind
Just say that I am worth your time

The Open Seat beside You

The Open Seat beside You

              He holds her hand now. As she rests in the bed provided for her, he is thinking of letting go for only a moment to use the bathroom. Seems harder than it should to just let go of a simple thing like a hand. Here they are, together as usual, she and he. If only it were under different circumstances. As he moves from her bedside he takes notice of all the electronics surrounding her, all the tubes and lines going to and from her being.

              The bathroom is tiny and typical enough for a hospital. He thought it only smart to get her into a private room. All the time he would spend here justified it plenty. Going to the sink je turns on the cold water, he hopes that the brisk sensation will wake him up; it is going to be a long night. Looking up from the stream of water from the faucet he meets his eyes in the mirror. The water leaves its after effect on the aged face. The water reflects the light where the skin has thinned and aged, where the wrinkles have set in, and brings more focus to the bags under his old eyes.

              Anthony Graves met her for the first time by circumstance, dumb luck, chance or what some may call fate. Sitting on the rustling subway train on his journey back to his apartment. Nothing running through his mind other than the music that played from his phone. The ear buds resting in his ears, he closed his eyes and drifted into the melodies.

              His daze was interrupted by a sudden poking on his cheek. Surprised he jumped, and opened his eyes in response.

              “Sorry to scare you, I was just curious if anyone was sitting in this seat.” She laughed as she said this and then pointed to the seat beside him. He couldn’t say anything at first being awe struck by the long red hair and the green eyes before him. She raised her eyebrow and gave him a look of confusion.

              “Y-Yeah it’s open,” he said, moving his bag from the seat beside him.

              “Thanks!”

              “Yeah, no problem.”

              The entire time that they both sat there, Anthony couldn’t help but catch as many glances of her as possible. Her hair was long and vibrant in color, with highlights of a lighter shade streaked throughout it. The random flicker of lights did not disrupt her milky skin. He started to feel sort of creepy, he was paying way too much attention to her, but could not help it. When the next stop came by and other got off, the gust blew across them both. He caught wind of her perfume, it was ever so light. It smelled of sweet tones and flowers. She wasn’t too much shorter than he, he stood six feet tall, and she maybe was a few inches smaller. You couldn’t tell most of the time due to his slouched posture. He sat there in wonder of who she was. Despite this he couldn’t muster up the gall to ask her. The train then came to a stop and he saw her rise up and get ready to go out to her stop.

              “Thanks again for the seat,” she said as she waved and left. Before he could say anything in return she was gone and the doors to the train closed shut. He stood and went to the door and saw her image disappear into the crowds of people that began to shift from the movement.

              The next few days he would take his usual route to and from work and home. These times, though, he kept an eye out for her. Each day nothing and he sulked slightly in his seat, he wished he could see her again and this time find out her name. The more he thought on it the more he wondered what he would say to her after knowing her name. His thoughts were then interrupted by a soft voice and a tapping on his head.

              The view from the mirror left its impression on him. The hair that was once a soft brown was now grayed and silvered throughout. He laughs at the sight of the old man looking back, strange what the years can do, eh? Wiping his face with the towel beside the sink he reaches for the door and sees her sleeping. The heart rate monitor still beeping at a usual pace.

              He decides that now is a good time to get some air, while she sleeps. He walks out of the room and back into the fluorescent lighted halls of the hospital. People moving up and down the hall; doctors, patients, nurses and orderlies alike.

              He goes on to the front doors and stands outside, snow on the ground and the light from the stars trying to break through the glow of the hospital building. The smell of rubbing alcohol and cleansers of the building exhales outward every time someone leaves or enters.  With every moment that passes in this cold he feels more and more heavy, knowing what is to come.

              Anthony’s brother passed away some years after meeting her. A long fight with cancer had finally ended and with it nothing good came along. Nights in bars and drinking more and more heavily lead to either a fight in the streets or a fight in the home. Curses and slurs slung every which way. Tears and hoarse voices prevailing till the midnight hours. She wanted nothing more than for his hurt to cease. He told her he wanted nothing more than for it all to end. She and Anthony wanted to see things differently.

              The night after the funeral, Anthony sat by himself on the couch she had bought for their first home together. He looked straight at the blank screen of the turned off TV. He wasn’t sure what to think. His eyes fell down to stare at the couch he sat on. There he felt his rage build. He hated the couch; the color, the felt, the collected hair from his and her, it was too much. It was with a large sigh that he stood up and flipped the couch over, cursing more than he ever thought he could.

              “God damn it! I hate this fucking couch! I hate it!” He yelled. It was with those curses that she came back into the room. Still dressed in the black gown she had bought, she begged for an explanation.

              “I am tired of this couch! I don’t know why we even bought it. I hated it and you knew it. Even when my brother came over all he could talk…” He stopped there, that night, mid-sentence, never saying another word. Instead he dropped down to his knees and rested his back against the wall beside the TV. He stretched his legs out and hung his head. She didn’t say a word, as mysterious as ever to him, that she never said a thing after that. Instead she sat beside him, put her hand on his nick and rubbed the tense area where the skull and spine met. She never left his side, she never let him fall too low.

              The cold is finally enough for him to handle. He wraps his arms under his pits and walks back through the automated doors. The light is like refreshment, a sudden shock to the sense that the luminous inflicted. The hallway isn’t as busy as he works his way back to her. Only stopping to by a drink from the vending machine.

              He returns to the room and sees her slumbering comfortably. He sits back in the chair beside her bed. He lies back and stares at her body lightly lifting with each breath. Her hair has now too become the same silver and grayed strands he carries. Even now he loves her more and more with each moment since he first saw her. A swelling in his chest makes him feel light again. Something only she seems to afflict in him. His trance intensifies when his phone buzzes on the nightstand. He sees the caller ID read: “Tyler”.

              The afternoon had been a long one for both Anthony and her. Many hours surrounded by doctors and now they were finally alone. Now with their son, after so much time he thought. Lying on the bed she held their child in her arms and he could do nothing but stare at the scene before him. The sun setting in the distance shone its last lights through the cracks in the blinds. Reflecting orange warmth in her eyes. He lost himself in them then, like he always had. Drowned in a sea of colors afloat by her arms.

              “Have any name ideas yet?” She laughed.

              “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

              “Well we should give him a strong name. He’ll benefit from it.”

              “How do you figure?”

              “That way he won’t have a silly nickname in school.”

              “A SILLY nickname? You can make any name sound silly!” He smiled at her. Poking fun at her even then. She just looked at him with a look that said it all: ‘Oh don’t you start!’

              “Well what do YOU have in mind?”

              “How about after my grandfather?”

              “Joseph? C’mon now, how many Josephs are out their anyway?”

              “I like it.”

              “Well you like week old pizza, so I pick the name.”

              “Fair enough… “They both laughed loud enough to hush at the sound of a stirring babe.

              “I say… Tyler.”

              “Where did you get that one?”

              “From my favorite movie: Fight Club.” Anthony couldn’t believe how serious she was. “This way you get your boring name and I get a kick ass movie reference.”

              “Tyler Joseph then?” He proposed.

              “I like it.”

              “Hello?” He answers to his son’s call. They have arrived at the hotel and are fully checked in. His sister has also gotten a room so that they are in close contact. Carpooling is an option for tomorrow. It isn’t too far from the hospital and the grandkids can enjoy an indoor pool to tide them during the trip.

              “That’s good. Well she’s asleep still but if she wakes tonight, I’ll let her know you all got settled.” The grandkids haven’t seen her yet. There is always tomorrow.

              “I love you too, son. Give the kids some hugs.” He assures them they will all enjoy some of the subpar hospital food in the morning and wishes them a goodnight.

              After hanging up he returns to his warmed seat beside her. She is still breathing steadily. He hopes it is a good dream she is venturing through. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes. He thinks of the song they dance to some time ago. The melody is slowly rocking him to sleep. He feels his heart move along to the beat and his soul flies alongside it. He is alongside her in body and spirit, dancing to Sinatra and Coldplay. She is smiling he is in his own form of heaven. His dream is interrupted by a familiar voice and a poking on his cheek.

              “Sleeping on the job again?” He opens his eyes to see her awake, looking out to him with warm eyes.

              “Only for a minute. Gotta get my beauty sleep, looking this good takes work even in the dreamscape.”

              “For shame!” She laughs at him, poking fun at him like she always does.

              “How are you feeling?”

              “Like that night in Jersey.”

              “That bad, eh? He smiles, feeling each wrinkle scrunching.

              “At least I won’t have any bruises all over my legs from tripping on the dance floor, like that night.”

              “Or me passing out on the couch.”

              “Well, see that is more of you sleeping on the job!”

              “You got me.” He smiles at her. She returns it in full.

              The next day comes and with it, nothing good. She is gone now. In the middle of the night she went off in a dream. Only this time it was without him. No longer the light movement of her being as she breathed. He sits there and stares at the empty bed where she lay, no more than a night ago. The nurse comes in and asks if he would like to see any of the family. Just the son and daughter will do.

              They enter, a man standing tall with dark brown hair, and a woman tall and thin like her mother, with the same red hair but his blue eyes. They come to him with tears in their eyes and sit beside their father, hand in hand to mourn together.

              The funeral is short and sweet, like how she would have wanted. Living life was an important matter to her. “Don’t become hung up on the trials that life would throw at you,” she would say. They all sit there beside the small, engraved plaque on the ground as she is buried in her urn. The sun is out. To him it is as though he knew that she is better off now. No anger this time, no resorting to crumbling, and no more wanting it all to end.

              When he returns to their home, it is not the same space. Something is lacking. He walks into the middle of the living room. He turns about and looks at every single corner. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s enough of a lack to make him tear.

              This night he is lying on the left side of the bed. The sheets are still tucked in on the right. This leaves him with little blankets to cover with, but he does not make a move to un-tuck them.

              The next day he goes over all the things in his home, more and more he counts what belonged to her. It seems as though everything here has some sort of tie back to her, in every little way. He stands there again; amongst the home they had built together, observing every little bit of a mural to her. ‘Where do I go now?’ he wonders. ‘What do I do?’ he then sits on the velvet of the couch he always hated.

              One year is passed and he is facing a new dilemma. Where did he put the oatmeal? The grandkids are here and breakfast cannot wait any longer. Hungry mouths need to be fed! They only get to visit every now and then.

             

              When they leave to return home, he closes the door behind him and faces again the house that has changed so much to him, but little in its actual appearance. The couch that he always hated is now gone and replaced with a new one. It is the only thing he could think of to rid of after her passing. Despite it being hers, he makes one sole attempt to move on. All her little cookie jars in every shape or character you can think of still in line up along the walls on the shelves he built. The creepy stuffed monkey doll she bought at the store when Tyler was born still sits in the rocking chair that belonged to his great grandmother. Their bedroom still remains the same color of lily purple, the windows still draped in large curtains. Their wedding photos still along the mantle. All of these things have stayed the same, but the couch is gone. He doesn’t know entirely why only it has left along with her, but he knows it may be best that one thing changes only.

              That night he goes to bed and still sleeps only on the left side, a pillow to fill the empty space beside him. It is no substitute he still thinks. He tears up only a little, but smiles to still be able to catch her scent in the sheets. Light it may be but the strongest sense that is tied to memory is scent, and this is a memory worth every ounce. He holds the pillow close to him and drifts to sleep.

              There he thinks of the life they shared and can feel it make him restless. His mind drifts to the good she left behind, the son and daughter that went on to start their families. A family that will still go on after they have. He feels the weight lift and mumbles in his sleep her name. How silly he thinks: A boy sitting on a stinking subway train looking for the girl who stole his sight. His dream continues on, even after a voice calls out to him.

              “Is this seat taken?”

Strange Life: A Guide to Survive by, Vol. 1

Strange Life:

A Guide to Survive by, Vol. 1

 

Foreword:

Thank you for your interest in improving yourself! With life being as hard as it is, everyone needs a different perspective. Improve yourself! Better your goals! Take a stab at the good life! With this guide we will take a look deeper into what makes you, you! Dive in and take the steps into what it means to live!

 

Working on It:

There are plenty of twists and turns along the way to content. Dear reader, take a chance to examine the good that is in your life. Examine where you could go and who you could be. Take a chance physically, emotionally and mentally!

This is Breathing:

Stress, anxiety, and depression are like a cancer. They eat away at you and break down the walls or barriers you built so high. All just to get through the day! You’re daily routine has become a safety net over the years. Resuming it whenever you feel that crack in the wall. Now that wall has big gaps in it. Your routine is plagued by the thoughts, actions, trail of your mind that gives way to long nights spent awake and staring at the ceiling. Break away from it all and take a walk. Look at the world you inhabit. Breathe in the air around you, it was meant to be.

Tattoos, Alcohol, and the Rhythm of Music:

You’ve made changes, but are they the right ones? You figured that if you change your appearance, change some of those habits, or rework some of the old ones, that you will begin again. Starting that new chapter takes much more than adding some ink to your skin or spending more time in crowds at the bars. Remember to revive old passions. Sing your favorite songs, move your body to the rhythms. Don’t change yourself back to your old style or old habits entirely. Embrace some of the changes, but don’t forget where you came from. Don’t forget the family that loves you and supports you. The friendships you’ve built and sacrificed for. You’re a good person, so don’t hide that behind some trivial things.

Effort:

The act of being is a brilliant thing. We strive to continue on, we crawl on towards a goal. Is it unattainable or is it just within reach? Questions that will continue on till the said goal is lost or won. It’s amazing what we’ll do to get somewhere in life. Hunting to survive, breathing thinking the air was meant for us. The drive to gain a simple piece of paper with your name. A golden star for your trial and tribulation. Keep your chin up, some will say. Look towards that goal, another will say. You’ve worked hard for your goals, whether it is that diploma that you’ve poured years into or that promotion at work that took time to build repertoire to gain. No matter the goal, keep it up! Surely, you can’t have be all for not.

On Dealing with Death:

Fear not the cold chill. This is something unavoidable. There will be things that will never gain answer. Forget that brush with the reaper. He gives freebies. Death comes knocking and you either flee or stand before it. Fight or Flight. Thinking on this topic could drive some insane. When will it happen? Why focus on that, when there is so much to live for? Then there is the opposite side, when it happens, what it will feel like. Whether it is slow or fast, painful or painless, it will happen. The obsession with death, the obsession with the end. It will be the death of you.

Femme Fatales and Silver Tongued Devils:

Life can be difficult to work with. When you feel overwhelmed and desire to feel a connection with someone else, it can drive you mad. You’ve probably spent nights alone in your apartment. Making dinner for two but only to feed one mouth. Late nights binge watching the shows you love, the Netflix queue over abundant with things you may or may not ever watch.

Do not fret! Go out and take yourself to the town! Explore the world you’ve been missing out on for years. There are worries though. Beware a woman that has good intent. She will enslave you and make you hers. She will keep you in tiny boxes and make you feel the mistakes of your future. She holds a cigarette pressed tight between lips burnt red, blowing smoke into the night. Her eyes are traps and you know better than to put all your trust into her. You see her sitting down from the bar. Move towards her and offer a drink. Take her home and be sure to use those words that mean all the right intent. Don’t feel sick the next morning with your decision. Everyone goes through this, everyone has a night they choose to forget. Just don’t make any new bad habits.

Coffee and Mint Bubblegum Saves Lives:

There should be one thing in your life, during a crisis, which takes the forefront of your mind. If it’s school, don’t forget to set your alarm. Waking up late every time and struggling to get work done. Let’s look at Dave and see how a typical day of school can get hectic when it doesn’t take the primary slot in his head and concerns:

“3:00 AM: Finally fall asleep amongst your fort, you left Parks and Recreation playing in the background. Funny dreams may ensue.

8:00 AM: Clock goes off, the loudmouth bastard. Ignore him and maybe he’ll go away.

10:00 AM: Shit! Oversleeping again and need to hurry out the door.

11:00 AM: ON campus and I didn’t do any of my reading… binge reading is my life.

3:00 PM: This place gives me nightmares. They say it was a riot building, pretty much still is…

5:00 PM: Home, now what to do? Homework? That’s funny. Turn on the TV.

3:00 AM: Shit… it’s that late?”

Don’t be like Dave.

Good Guys vs the Finish Line:

Wake up and tell yourself that you are going to be a good person. Don’t drink yourself to sleep every night. Make sure you care about every living, breathing person that has existed, exists, and will enter this world. Hold the door open for the elderly, care about the single mom. Forgive them all for their trespasses. Accept people for who they are. Make someone smile and do not break hearts. There is someone waiting for a person LIKE you. That finish line is not so far away when you squint your eyes tight, yeah just like that.

The Fear of Falling Apart:

Dear reader, despite these tribulations, there is still the method of self-examination. Look into yourself and see what has been there, festering. Face your fears and stare deep into the eyes looking back from the mirror!

Security in Numbers:

Reality is scary. When the world is opening up and you begin to take on more and more of what it means to live, you will both curl up and die or rise to the occasion… am I meant to rise to this?

Anyways, when the world comes down and you feel your every nerve begin to tense. Your body either flees or fights. There is a halt though. The sudden freezing. When you realize that only a few days separate you from the world of living. Will you use those excess pillows at night to stack them tall? Building them up so that you can feel some sense of security from reality while you sleep.

Lost Loves:

Love is a thing that is named in books. Seen on the screen of a theater, or told from word of mouth.

“I love you, I did what I could to save our future. I made the wrong decision leaving you. Ending this what the biggest mistake of my life and I want you back.”

“When everything fell apart, you were there to pick me back up. You taught me to live for myself again. In the end I fell in love with you, but you used that to your advantage. I hate you, I love you. I never want to see your face again.”

“I met you when I really tried to start fresh again. You’re a breath of something new and familiar all in one. You understand what I’ve gone through but I could never love you like you want. The spark is not there, I just hope I can find the strength to tell you one day.”

“Fitting into my new lifestyle, I met you and it has been an interesting ride thus far. I don’t know your intent and I think you figured me out. I have no clue what I’m doing and I don’t know how to love again.”

“We met by circumstance and I think we knew there was no love in our actions. Lust overpowered us and we took a chance to spend one night in each other’s warmth. Please forgive me, wherever you are, I chose to forget your name.”

Don’t fall in love again. Don’t fall in love with your best friend. Don’t think back to your ex. Don’t compare anyone to her. Don’t wish that she was here instead. Write stories to help drain what remains in your head of her. Break a heart, it makes you feel better, makes you feel in control. Don’t look over to see if they are around. Don’t call her. Don’t let her know you wanted her back the moment she started packing. Don’t let her know that you fell in love after her. Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall in love. Don’t fall down just to get back up. Don’t fall down. Don’t get back up.

Parental Guidance May Be Required:

Smoke. Drink. Play a chord. Repeat. Smoke. Drink. Play a chord. Repeat. Smoke. Drink. Yell at the wife. Play a chord. Repeat. Smoke. Drink. Scream at the wife. Hold your boy by the throat. Repeat. Smoke more. Drink More. Scream at the wife. Never leave chair. Yell at dog. Push sons away. Repeat. Cycle Break.                     Begin New Cycle… Sit in chair. Sit through pain. Smoke. Drink. Pop pill. Yell at dog. Yell at wife. Push sons away. Play a chord. Don’t be like me. Be a better man than I am. Repeat.

Wake. Smack alarm. Sleep more. Get up. School. Work. Drink. Think. Wake. Smack alarm. Sleep more. Get up. School. Work. Drink. Think. Wake. Smack alarm. Feel the pain in your insides. Try to sleep more. School. Work. Feel bitter in your own skin. Drink. Pain. Think. Pain. Wake. Smack alarm. Pain. Wish for death. No sleep. Lay in bed wishing for death. Get up. Drink. School. Work. Drink. Feel bitter. Pop a pill. Pain. Think. Pain. Sleep comes late. Pain. Wake. Pain. Smack alarm. Pain. Drink. Wish for death. I became my father. Think. Wish for death. Wish to be a child again.

The Physicality of Pain:

Pain has a weird way of working. It can pop up from the smallest of things wrong. The tingling, burning of the sting. It can be external and internal. The latter will break you down quicker than any other. Pills will not work. Changing your diet will not work. Good rest and healthy living haven’t done anything. There isn’t a moment when the pain is not present. Sickly, burning in the gut. Like acid melting away the linings and exposing sores. Open wounds hurt the most if not seen. Shaking hands, the tremor is omnipresent. Drinking numbs the pain. Making boys become men like their fathers. No sleep kills the light that was in dreamer’s eyes. The heart becomes bitter and trust becomes rare.

Ulcers plague my body. My stomach. They sting. They burn. They ache. I don’t eat. I don’t want to sleep. I’m so tired of my body doing this. I feel like death is with me when the pain is here. I almost wish that I were dead. I’m angrier, I’m more irritable. I don’t recognize myself anymore. When there is nothing but pain you lose sight of who you were.

Remnants of Humanity (In Return):

Soft scents. Warmth in her touch. How I miss this. This feeling of completion.

“Do you think we’ll be okay?”

I can’t handle this. All these memories, all this working through your problems bullshit. What if I never could handle life? What if I never could show anyone else how?

“I don’t know.”

“I still love you.”

I will fall into myself and feel that spiral down into the bottom. Remember to breathe. Feels more like choking. What if I can’t afford student loans after I graduate? What If I die alone? What if I missed my shot at true happiness? What If? What if?

“You’ll find someone better than me, you’ll move on.”

“How can I? When all I’ll do is compare everyone to you. No one will ever be you…”

How to Live Again (Dealing with Life):

There is no clear answer anymore…

  

In Closing:

There is still work to be done. If you wish to continue on with your betterment, look for Volume 2!

At A Crossroads

Inside myself I feel the world

A short life that feels it has lived twice

I am not sure where I go now

To feel lost in your own shoes, in your own hometown

Waking up with the immediate sense of frustration

To feel angst as if you were young and angry

The same thing plagues my mind with every word

Why do I wish to mean something to someone?

To be the light of their eyes

A thought that never fully goes away

Neither for them, neither for I

It does seem childish to feel as such

Selfish for the first time in a long life

Wishing for more than I’m worth

After so much time I feel scared

More than I have ever been, terrified

That what I want is nothing

What I am is nothing but falling short

I feel so little right now

The child in me is screaming

Terrified of something new and all too familiar at once